Last In His Line.
by dirac
Summary: An Arm commander has to come to terms with new found mortallity.(about 10000 words)


LAST IN HIS LINE....  
  
  
Commander Reese drank deeply of the cool, moist night air. There was an eerie silence  
about the arm base camp. It was in stark contrast to the almost non stop core raids that  
had dogged his convoy since they began there journey three weeks earlier.   
Reese looked over his shoulder, sparing a thought for the numerous broken hulls that lay  
between the origin of their journey, the arm HQ on ppx012, and their current position, 2  
click south east of Gaat pass. It was those accursed rapiers that had done the most  
damage, taking advantage of the fact that the last of the arm air support had been  
eliminated a week earlier. The most haunting thing about the assault however, was the  
way they ended abruptly as the convoy approached the Gaat pass. It was as if the core  
themselves feared the automated death trap that lay ahead...  
Reese shook his head, trying to clear his mind of those lost. He cast his mind forward to  
the fate of those who remained. After all, the dead had nothing to fear from the trials  
ahead.   
To his right stood a squad of four flash tanks. Steam rose silently from the plating of  
each vehicle, spiralling upwards into the pitch black sky. Each hull bore the marks of  
enemy raids, like backwards trophies of every crippling blow dealt to their forces by the  
enemy. Reese watched as the swirls of vapour ascended to the heavens, leaving the hell  
like reality of the galactic war behind them on the planets surface. As the weary  
commander   
followed the clouds upward, perhaps to his own escape, he caught sight of the moon  
of that world. ppx012 was a strange little world. Gravity 9.79 m/ssqr, and only a single  
moon. Lush, green and humid this world was the only liveable one in the sector, ideal for  
a basic training facility. Therein lay its importance. The arm central command saw  
this, and deemed it worthy of the sacrifice of him and his battalion. Reese was not a naive  
young private. He knew that the command intended this world as his final resting place.  
And final It would be. There had been a Reese fighting for the arm for over 2000 years. In  
that time, the original DNA pattern had been lost, as had many subsequent cloned  
samples. Now the samples in storage were so badly riddled with aberrant strands that any  
further attempts at cloning would almost surely fail. Today, for the first time in 2000  
years, Commander Zeek Reese was mortal...  
A voice came from over Reeses' shoulder,  
"Commander, the squad leaders are assembled." It was his aide, corporal Max, "They wish  
to discuss tomorrow's advance."  
Reese gave a shallow sigh. He was reluctant to face his squad leaders. He had always  
had trouble looking a man in the eye whom he was to lead to his death. It was this lack  
of ruthlessness that had kept Reese from attaining the lofty rank of high commander. So,  
what would he tell his squad leaders? The same thing he always had. That beyond the  
horizon lay the euphoria of victory, the glory of final supremacy over the core. In reality,  
all there was, for these incarnations of his men at least, was oblivion.   
"Tell them I shall be there momentarily." Reese replied, turning to face the young  
corporal. Max nodded acknowledgement and returned hastily to the temporary shelter  
that stood just beyond a radar jammer behind him. Reese turned once more to face the  
horizon he had been pondering earlier. As the whirr of the near silent jammer penetrated  
the night air around him, his mind turned once more to his new found mortality.  
  
Day broke across the grassy plane. The lush foliage swayed gently in the light morning  
breeze, small winged creatures darted through the pale blue skies, and fragments of  
sunlight danced among the dew drops that coated the well ordered killing machines.  
A poorly rested Commander Reese emerged from the Polymeric alloy cocoon that had  
been his shelter for the night. The previous night had been a restless one for the  
tormented commander. Much of it he had spent conscious, contemplating the  
philosophical questions of cloning that had long been oppressed by the arm governing  
bodies. Would his men be safe from the clutches of death, protected by the safety net  
of the rigorous cloning that was carried out by arm scientists, or would the new clones  
be separate entities, having only sparse memories in common with their predecessors. His  
own experience had given him little insight. And what of the soul. Did any of the arm's  
forces possess such a thing, and if so, what would become of his...  
" Commander!" a familiar voice shattered Reese's concentration," All units report ready for  
advance. Do you wish to address the men before the battle?" Asked Max. And, after 2000  
years of having been asked that same question, Reese gave an unprecedented answer.  
" No."   
The previous nights meeting of his senior officers had not gone well. Reese was certain  
that his uncertainty had been apparent to his officers. He knew that they where strong  
and responsible enough to keep it to themselves, but he daren't risk spreading his  
insecurity to the less experienced troops.  
" There is no time for such indulgence." Reese said, trying to mask his true intentions,"  
We move now before the enemy mobilise their assault forces." This was in fact a half  
truth. They did have limited time. Their suicide assault had to weaken the enemy now,  
otherwise the Arm HQ would be over run by the swelling core army. Given enough time  
the arm could reinforce their defences, but only if Reese and his men died hard.  
"And what of our squad?" Reese enquired, trying to break the harsh tone at the  
conversation had assumed.  
"It was ready first of course, sir" Max replied, the squad pride evident in his voice. Reese  
cast a sideways glance at his protégé, and gave a gentle smile.  
"Excellent, carry on soldier"   
Reese admired Corporal Max's organisational skills and enthusiasm for battle. It was these  
qualities that had prompted Reese to choose Max as his aide. It was fortunate that there  
would be a Lezly Max for some time to come.  
Max trotted onwards toward the lead squad which was now coming into view from  
around an unfeasibley large bulldog battle tank.  
The squad to which they referred was a group of five vehicles. A quartet of Rocko rocket  
kbots headed up by a heavily modified Fido, Commander Reeses steed of battle.  
After an eternity of ten minutes, Reese came upon the Fido that he would pilot into into  
battle. Though heavily armoured by comparison to a regular Fido, Reese preferred the  
manoeuvrability it afforded over the over armoured, over armed commander unit. Reese  
began the final ascent of his companion of 300 years, all the time contemplating that it  
would be his last. He soon reached the summit of the quadrapedal colossus, and perched  
himself there. The elevation had forced back the horizon, and now the mountain range  
that housed the meat grinder that was gaat pass was clearly visible. Reese found his  
mind filling with morbid thoughts of his own demise. He tore his glare away from the  
horizon. Slowly, he opened the access hatch to the Fido, as a man opening his own  
coffin. With a deep breath, he slid himself in.  
The interior of the Fido was even more unusual than the exterior. Though still as  
claustrophobic, it was well lit and adorned by a plethora of manual controls. Reese  
preferred manual control. Over the last 2000 years, his genetic memory of every battle  
had made his physical reflexes far more reliable than any mind interface. Only the radar  
and communications systems were fed into his mind via the neural interface helmet.  
Commander Reese placed this on his head, and keyed in his access code on the small  
console on the right arm of the pilot seat.  
"Good day commander." A synthetic male voice rang out in Reese's mind. It was the Fido  
on board computer.  
"Good morning computer." Reese replied in thought, "Are all systems ready."  
"All systems are combat ready.", the computer answered. It was followed closely by a  
second familiar voice.  
" All squads manned and ready sir." It was Max. "We're ready when you are."  
This was it. Reese hesitated. Then, composing himself, he gave the order.  
"all units, move out."  
  
The entrance to the pass loomed high above the Arm convoy. At first glance, there was  
no evidence of a core presence. Only blank, barren cliff faces. This was a sharp contrast  
to the open countryside they had left behind.   
Entering the valley was an unnerving experience. The valley walls dwarfed the 200 strong  
convoy, and the sounds they made echoed eerily between them. Reese could see  
nothing on the radar, but he knew they were there. Dozens of defence towers, hidden by  
radar jammers. Reese could hear them. The infrasound detectors were picking up the  
inaudible, mechanical sounds of the towers turning to face their prey. The commander  
turned his attention to the radar. A few of the rear guard squads were beginning to  
bunch together. The less experienced soldiers, influenced by anxiety, where increasing  
speed.  
"Steady as you go." Was the general communication sent by Reese.  
It would be very easy for one or two soldiers to panic. Such a catastrophe could send  
the entire convoy into confusion. That was the last thing they needed.  
"I don't like this commander." Came Max's voice via communications, "Where are they?"  
"Stay calm corporal," Reese replied in a stern tone, "We'll be hearing from the core soon  
enough."  
"I know. But I think I'd rather face the whole core army on my own as long as I could see  
them." Max was deeply unsettled by the covert nature of the enemy they were about to  
face. Reese closed the channel before muttering to himself,  
"I know what you mean."  
Then there was silence. The infrasound sensors were reading nothing. The towers had  
found their targets.  
A streak of green light raced across the visual readout, accompanied by a high pitch  
shriek as the air ionised around it. It was followed instantaneously by a hale of laser fire.  
Within seconds, Reese was inundated with news of damaged and lost units. The radar  
display in his mind was going wild. Units were under attack from all directions, and the  
convoy was beginning to lose cohesion. Reese opened a communication channel,  
"All units, do not return fire!" He barked, "Keep moving!" He knew that if small groups of  
units started making runs at gun emplacements it would only make the Core's job easier.  
But already squads were breaking away. Panic was setting in among the Arm forces.   
An intensely loud shriek emerged from the pandemonium, and was culminated in a  
thunderous crash that reverberated through the Fido's hull. The kbot lurched over to its  
left.   
"Damn it!" Reese snarled, as the damage control console lit up like a colony power grid.  
His attempts to compensate for power loss were interrupted by a communication from  
Corporal Max.  
"Sir, the squads at the rear a getting bogged down behind the wreckage!"  
"Where are the FARKs!" Reese snapped.  
"Er... that's the wreckage that the squads have got stuck behind sir." Max replied. The  
irony of the situation was not lost on Reese. On another day It might have been almost  
funny.  
"Tell them to blast there way through!" came Reese's order, "The convoy must keep  
moving!"  
"Yes sir." Said Max.   
The once straight pass was now becoming convoluted, and the larger units were having  
difficulty manoeuvring. At this point Reese was navigating by sonar. So much dust had  
been thrown up in the melee that optical sensors were near useless. The ground all  
around the Arm convoy was shaking as it was pummelled continuously by laser fire.  
Another communication came in,  
"Sir, we're under heavy attacked!" screamed the anonymous voice, " We've lost the  
squad leader and..."  
"Who is this!" Reese interrupted.  
"Corporal Alred, sir." Was the reply, "I've taken command of squad 7. We're going to   
make a run at some of the emplacements."  
"You will not!" Reese said, enraged by the foolhardy suggestion.  
"But sir, we..."  
"Listen here corporal, either you keep your squad moving, or I'll come back there and  
dismantle you myself!" A short pause followed Reese's words.  
"Yes sir." Said Alred, submissively. With that, he closed the channel.  
The enemy fire seemed to have reached saturation. A continuous crescendo of weapons  
discharge and tearing metal filled the air all around. Reese could barely keep his vehicle  
stable, the shaking of the earth beneath it was that intense. There was another ear  
piercing shriek. Reese braced himself for the impact. There came a deafening explosion,  
followed by a heavy, rapid beating against the exterior of the vehicle. That was the  
sound of debris from the destruction of a nearby unit...Max! Reese hastily opened a  
channel.  
" Max!" He shouted, as a father searching desperately for his child, "Max! What just  
happened!"  
"We've lost Louis, sir." Came the reply. Reese breathed a sigh of relief, but caught himself  
halfway through. How could he feel this way after the loss of a good man like Louis. Then  
he remembered that it may not be over for Louis, nor would it have been for Max had he  
been lost. Reese realised then just how much mortality had changed him. Death was now  
frighteningly real for him, and it had altered totally his attitude, not just towards his own  
life, but towards those of his men.  
"Sir," Max's voice broke Reese's concentration, "Do you hear that?"  
"Hear what?" Reese asked.  
"The laser fire," Max replied, "It's dying off." Reese listened. Max was right. All the Laser  
fire was now coming from behind their position. They were leaving it behind as they came  
to a bend in the pass. It looked as if Reese's stubborn, non-confrontational tactics had  
paid off. They had survived, for now.  
The convoy had come to rest in a convolution in the pass. The cliff faces here were so  
sheer  
that the Core had been unable to booby trap them. Reese examined his radar readings.  
Approximately 40% of his forces had been lost, and what remained was crammed into the  
narrow , sharply curved section of the valley in a formation that resembled a crooked  
limb.   
"What now, commander?" enquired Max. Though he would never say it in front of his  
soldiers, Reese had little idea what to do next. Intelligence on the area ahead was  
sketchy at best, and frankly he had not expected to live to see it.  
"We scout." Reese said, after a short pause. He couldn't go far wrong with scouting. He  
opened a second channel to the scout squads.  
"Lieutenant Ash."  
"Yes sir?" Ash replied.  
"We'll be moving on momentarily," Reese informed her, "I want your squad and scout  
squad 2 to take point."  
"We're on it, sir." Ash answered, before closing the channel. A couple of moments  
passed. Then, with an insect like buzz of engine activity, two squads of four Jeffys burst  
from the Arm ranks, and bounded onwards across the rocky terrain.  
"All units, move out!" ordered Reese. The convoy came to life, and began to round the  
curve in the pass behind the bold Jeffy squads. All the time, Reese kept a careful eye on  
the readings sent back by the scouts.  
Reese's squad made its way around an outcrop of rubble. At this point ,the valley opened  
out into a wide, crater like formation. Sparse vegetation dotted the terrain here. The  
walls were no longer vertical, but instead curved continuously from the floor of the valley  
to the top. Imperfections in the cliff faces played host the local airborne wildlife. This  
was a good sign. No indigenous fauna would dare nest there if the sides of the chasm  
housed enemy units.   
"Commander Reese." It was Ash , "We're detecting some seismic activity ahead."  
"Explain." Reese said.  
"Its very localised. A sort of low pitch rumble." Ash replied, "What do you suppose it  
could be?" With that, her question was answered. A viper cannon sprang from the ground  
in a eruption of dust and rock. The Jeffys scattered, but one unfortunate unit was  
caught right on top of the cannon as it rose. The vehicle was tossed effortlessly into the  
air at a 60 degree angle. It collided with the cliff face and exploded, raining down burning  
debris as two more vipers thrust upwards from the valley floor. All three cannons began  
to pump shells into the body of the convoy. Chaos ensued. Units were colliding with one  
another as they swerved to avoid the shelling. Reese could hardly see through the swarm  
of panicking creatures as they took flight from the valley's sides, bombarding the Arm  
with payloads of their own.  
"Advance!" Reese, commanded, "Fire at will!"  
The convoy let loose a heavy volley of weapon fire. The projectiles thundered over  
Reese's Fido, causing the 300 year old kbot to rattle like a tin full of ration pellets. The  
ground shook once more as the rockets and shells came to bare, and the Vipers  
disappeared behind a veil of fire and smoke. Moments later, the smoke cleared, revealing  
the battered corpses of their attackers, and another four new Vipers standing behind.  
"Ash, get your units out of there!" Reese shouted.  
"We're way ahead of you, sir!" Ash replied, as her squad were absorbed back into the  
ranks from which they came.   
"All Peewee and Flash squads advance!" was Reese's next order, "Artillery and rocket  
units lay down covering fire!" There was to be no more ducking the fight now. The  
convoy would have to go toe to toe with the Core guns if they were to survive. But it  
seemed that for every Viper destroyed, like the heads of the mythical hydra, another two  
appeared in its place.   
Again, the convoy was blinded by the dust and smoke. Reese himself was pouring plasma  
shells haphazardly into the thick, black haze, and his right thumb was numb from  
operating the firing mechanism. It was then that a new sound joined the cacophony. A  
thunderous rumbling that shook the ground, threatening to topple Reese's Fido. As  
Reese's fingers raced around several consoles, thumping buttons and jarring unresponsive  
systems as he struggled to keep his vehicle steady. Reese then began to realise what  
was happening. The violent exchange that was going on in the canyon had made the  
walls unstable. A massive landslide was occurring.  
"All units, Retreat!" shouted Reese as he struggled to bring the violently shaking Fido  
through 180 degrees. The smaller units had already turned and run back into the narrow  
section of valley, but the larger vehicles were having difficulty turning. Some were  
reversing out of harms way, but their progress was agonisingly slow, and Reese was  
stuck at the back of the sluggish queue of vehicles with no way to escape into the  
narrow pass. Through the visual feed, Reese watched as a mighty tempest of slag  
washed over the remaining Vipers and straggling flashes. With grim resignation, he  
released the control levers from his sweat soaked hands, and forced himself back into his  
seat. Gritting his teeth, Reese waited for the moment of impact. With a horrendous  
crash, a stream of rock collided with the defenceless machine. Klaxons and warning  
signals flooded through the neural interface into Reese's mind, before being abruptly  
silenced as the helmet was thrown from his head. Reese's stomach turned as he felt the  
massive frame of his vehicle being tossed end over end. Sparks leapt from every console,  
filling the air like a swarm of fire flies. The atmosphere in the cockpit was then saturated  
with a swirling, white cloud of fire suppressant, obscuring everything from Reese's view.  
All he could sense were the violent tumbling of the Fido, and the deafening sound made  
by the torrent of stone pummelling the hull. Terrified and disorientated, Commander Reese  
lost consciousness.  
  
Awareness was slowly returning to the Arm commander. All around him was still dark.  
Reese's head was spinning, and he was very nearly sucked back into oblivion. On the  
verge of losing consciousness once more, Reese was snatched from the brink by a  
peculiar sound. It was a metallic grinding, low pitch but quite loud. Suddenly he was  
bathed in a blinding light. Reese grunted with discomfort. His eyes were unprepared for  
the intensity of the rays. The commanders head began to fill with stories of strange the  
experiences of soldier on the threshold of death. Was this... the other side?   
"Commander?" there came a distant voice, "Commander?" Reese recognised it. It was  
Max.   
"Max, where ...." Reese struggled to speak, " what..? Ahh..." He was overcome  
momentarily by a pounding headache. Reese realised that he was still painfully alive.  
"I think he's okay." Max's voice had gone from distant to deafening as Reese's senses  
returned. His condition was reminiscent of the worst hangovers from his enlisted days.  
"Commander, I'm going to release your harness and pull you out. Okay?"  
"Yeah." Reese replied in a weak, raspy tone. An ill defined silhouette emerged from the  
light. The figure reached forward, and released the metal buckle on his chest. The straps  
withdrew into the sides of the chair. Reese could just about make out Max's face now, as  
the corporal thrust his arms beneath his own.   
"One, two, three!" Max said. Then with a grunt of effort, he hoisted the commander  
towards the light. Reese gave an almost inaudible chuckle as he emerged into the radiant  
sunlight. He thought to himself that if he did ever reach the other side, he hoped his  
ascension would be more elegant than this.  
  
Reese and Max sat atop the battered hulk of the commander's Fido, watching as the  
remaining Arm troops performed temporary repairs on their vehicles. Max's Rocko had  
sustained little damage. Most of the repairs needed where just to the cockpit  
electronics, and had only taken a few minutes to perform. Reese's Fido was a write off.  
It lay on its side, the aft section sandwiched between the valley wall and a mound of  
rubble. The two warriors had taken the free time to talk over their next move.   
" I just don't see any sense in continuing with the mission sir." Corporal Max said, with a  
dejected expression, " There's no way we'll be able to get through the rest of this pass  
without further heavy loss."  
"Perhaps you'd prefer to go back through the way we came, Corporal." Reese said dryly,  
"You can take point."   
" Ah. I see what you mean." Max concurred. He cast a glance towards the sloping mound  
of loose rock that now blocked the pass ahead, and gave a nervous laugh. "Talk about  
your rock and a hard place." He then turned back to Reese. " I just don't see how we  
can pose any serious threat to the Core presence if we lose anymore units." The convoy  
now numbered less than 60, and only a few types of units would be able to climb the  
obstacle that now spanned the width of the chasm. Reese looked up to the sky. He was  
desperate for inspiration at this point, and would take it from wherever it came. Above  
him the sky was still clear, tarnished only by a single, wispy cloud. Following it across the  
sky provided a temporary distraction from the turmoil he felt inside. Earlier that morning  
he had sure that he would be dead by now, and now even that certainty had been taken  
from him. He was lost, and it was an entirely new and unpleasant experience for him.  
Unwilling to admit defeat, Reese made the only decision he could.   
"There's only one way to go," Reese broke the silence, "and that's forward. Tell the  
technicians to prepare small explosive charges. We'll use them to reduce the gradient of  
the debris mound. Then we go over." He placed both hands on the cold metal bulkhead,  
raised himself up, and slid himself down the side of the wreck. He landed on his feet with  
a dull thud. He grunted, and stumbled back against the underside of the stricken kbot  
cradling his heavily strapped chest. He had forgotten about those two broken ribs.  
" Are you all right sir?" Max shouted after him.  
" Yes!" Gasped Reese, " But I think I may have scratched the paint work!"   
  
It had only taken ten minutes to prepare the charges, and place them at the base of the  
steep debris pile. The convoy had backed off into the pass in an orderly manner to allow  
some space for the induced land slide. Reese was now riding shotgun in a bulldog, which  
had received a field promotion to the command squad in place of Reese's Fido. From here  
he would co-ordinate the remainder of the mission. His new surroundings were unfamiliar,  
as he was used to operating a kbot rather than heavy support. Also, the cockpit was  
very dark by comparison to that of his Fido, lit only by a single red lamp on the underside  
of the access hatch above. In front of him was the pilots position, manned by Major Foy.  
All Reese could see of him from his slightly raised position was the back of his helmet clad  
head. There were no screens or consoles around. All the vehicles functions were routed  
to Foy's mind via the neural interface, the standard set up for an Arm vehicle. Reese on  
the other hand, was only receiving sensor information and communications. He found the  
lack of control unsettling.  
"All the charges are in place commander." Came Max's voice over communications.  
"Very good corporal." Reese replied, he then switched to general communication. "All  
units brace for detonation. Technicians, detonate on my mark.... Mark!" Reese watched  
via the sensors as small bursts plasma and rock erupted from the foot of the rock pile.  
The light tapping of debris against the hull could be heard as the series of explosions  
worked there way outwards from the centre of the mound. The explosions were followed  
closely by a soft rumbling as the boundary of the slide began to approach the convoy. Forr  
a moment, as he watched the steady tide of stone rolling in, he feared that it may not  
stop. If the technicians had miscalculated, half the convoy could be buried, bringing a  
rather silly end to their mission. But the tide did ebb. The foot of the mound came to rest  
ten metres ahead of the convoy, its face making an easily surmountable forty degree  
angle with the ground. Reese breathed a sigh of relief at the success of the blasting, and  
opened a communication channel.  
"Max, report." He said.   
"There are no reports of damage to any units sir." Max replied, "The technicians report  
100% success with the blast." Reese often allowed Max to deal with field reports. It kept  
the young corporal on his toes.  
"Sir, the mound doesn't look too stable. Are you sure its safe to climb?" Max enquired,  
gingerly.   
"No." Reese replied. "All units, move out!"  
The crunching of gravel beneath the tracks could be heard as the colossal bulldog hauled  
itself forward. Through the visual sensors Reese could see the two remaining command  
Rockos, and a third Rocko that had been promoted from the from the third squad to  
replace Louis's. He watched as the smaller, more nimble Kbots began their ascent of the  
rocky slope. Rocks and pebbles tumbled down the incline with each careful footfall of the  
vehicles. The engines of the bulldog strained as it began it's own climb. Reese could  
sense the front of the vehicle rising slowly. There was a grinding sound, followed by a  
shrill whirring as the tracks lost grip momentarily on the loose stones and began to spin.  
Reese's heart skipped a beat as he realised the possibility of the Bulldog's struggling  
causing a second uncontrolled landslide. He had no wish to repeat his last experience  
with one of those. Major Foy soon regained the vehicles footing, however.  
"Sorry about that, sir." Foy apologised hastily.  
"Don't worry about it soldier." Reese replied, trying not to sound to flustered. The Bulldog  
then began its ascent proper. It was a very slow climb. The Bulldog, not the fastest unit  
at the best of times, was moving at a much lower speed than normal. The Rockos moved  
on ahead. As they did, they disturbed still more rubble. Reese noticed a small, shiny  
object protruding from the slope were Max's kbot had trodden a moment earlier. As the  
Bulldog moved closer to the object Reese was able to make out the familiar form. It was  
a fragment of a peewee hull, embossed with the Arm emblem. Reese sighed deeply with  
regret at not having attempted a rescue, but it was not standard Arm procedure. Why  
waste time and resources rescuing troops when you can clone new ones? On another  
day, the commander would not have given it a second thought.  
"Would you look at that!" Max's voice came over communications. His group of Rockos  
had reached the top of the mound some minutes before, and were now surveying an area  
out of Reese's line of sight. He sat forward in his chair quickly, and was almost winded as  
he met with resistance from his safety harness.  
"What is it?" Reese asked, his voice heavy with anticipation.  
"I think you'll want to see this for yourself commander." Max replied. Reese hated it when  
his troops were cryptic with him. He decided to indulge his aide, however, and wait for  
the Bulldog to reach the top of the debris pile. It seemed like forever. Reese was  
tempted to order Foy to increase speed, but controlled the urge, thinking back to his last  
encounter with a rock slide. Eventually, the bulldog reached the top of the incline. The  
front end reared into the air as it did, as the tank was slightly rear heavy. Then, with a  
grinding of rock on metal, the front of the bulldog angled towards the horizontal. The  
tracks met the ground surprisingly softly. Ahead the mound was fairly flat and was only a  
few metres short of the top of the shrunken valley walls. Across the length and breadth  
of the newly established ground there were several small, shiny protrusions, much like  
the one Reese had seen as the Bulldog was mounting the rocky slope. Foy took the  
vehicle forward to meet the Rockos that were standing about fifty metres ahead at the  
rear end of the mound. As the tank crawled forward, more of what lay beyond the slide  
could be seen. At the horizon there was a mountain range. Each mount was tinted green  
by the vegetation on its slopes, and was capped by pure, white snow that shone with  
near blinding brilliance in the early afternoon sun. The Bulldog moved still further, until  
the dense woodland that stood at the foot of the range was revealed. Great flocks birds  
twisted and turned in unison above the canopies, casting there shadows across the  
forest below. As the perimeter of the woodland came into view, Reese's attention was  
caught by the glint of a distant object. Before he could make out what it was, another  
came into view. Tens of glistening, metallic objects began to emerge from behind the  
land slide. Reese gasped as he realised what he was seeing. Dozens of irregularly  
arranged structures of widely varying sizes. It was the Core base. It had become  
apparent that the exchange in the pass earlier that day had caused the collapse of the  
entire valley forward of the convoy's position. The walls of the chasm parted like curtains  
before the Arm Commander, revealing the stage upon which the final act would occur.  
Every emotion that Reese was experiencing -awe, surprise, apprehension, fear- were  
encapsulated by Major Foy's quite utterance,  
"Woah..."  
All of the Arm convoy's sixty or so units were now congregated on the top of the mound.  
Reese, who was still staring down upon the Core base, was oblivious to the numerous  
communications he was receiving. The units to the rear of the convoy could not see the  
huge cluster of enemy structures that sprawled across the landscape before them, and  
were requesting information and orders. The commander's attention turned to the queue  
of communications now awaiting a reply. A priority message came in, overriding those  
that had come before. It was Max.  
"Commander, we need some orders." Max said in a concerned tone. Through the visual  
sensors Reese detected movement.  
"Sir, the enemy is mobilising." Came Max's voice again, this time with more urgency, "We  
have to go now." Max was right. The Core forces were now filtering through between the  
vast maze of structures. The Arm convoy was out numbered by at least six to one.  
Reese hesitated still.  
"Sir!" Max was becoming frustrated, "We have got to move out now! If we can get  
between the enemy structures before the Core can get out they won't be able to bring  
their numbers to bare!" Max's voice now seemed distant to Reese. All his attention was  
focused of the Core army that was moving inexorably towards their position. There was  
no way out of this. The moment he gave the order, his fate would be sealed. Reese dug  
his fingers into the side of his seat. He could still hear Max desperately trying to elicit a  
response, but Reese still could not find it within himself to give the order. He wasn't  
ready to go. He wasn't ready to fight..... he wasn't ready to die. Suddenly, Reese  
released his grip on the seat. This is what It's like. He thought. This is what it's like to  
die for your cause. Reese remembered the tales of the old wars, back on Earth before it  
was lost. Before cloning or patterning. A time when death was final. As an Arm warrior,  
Reese had never fully understood this concept. How could he? An Arm warrior gave his  
life over and over again, only to have it returned like an item of lost battle gear. Reese  
looked down at his hands. They were shaking and glistening with seat in the pale light of  
the Bulldog cocpit. Reese's returned his attention to the advancing Core. They were  
nearing the perimeter of the base and would soon emerge onto the flat open ground only  
a couple of hundred metres from the waiting Arm. If this was where the Reese line was  
to fall, he, the last, would not meet his end in this state. Shaking and cowering in the  
darkness of the bulldog.   
"Commander! If you don't give the order then I will!" Max scolded.  
"All units, move out!" Reese ordered. The commander just caught one of Max's stray  
thoughts before the communications channel was closed.  
"Finally."   
The bulldog shuddered into motion. The nose of the vehicle reached out over the rear  
edge of the mound and then turned downwards sharply. The tracks met the gradient  
with a jolt that reverberated through every component of the machine, causing the  
metallic hull to whine as if the Bulldog was in pain. Reese looked on as the Rocko's went  
on ahead once again. They were in a crouched position and were skimming over the  
loose rocks rather than walking. The bulldog was also skimming slightly, but the slide was  
carefully controlled by Major Foy's deft movements of the tracks. The hull squealed once  
more as the tank's forward section impacted with the ground. It levelled out on the  
grassy plain and rolled onwards towards the Core horde. Reese watched through the rear  
sensors as the rest of the convoy descended the slope after them. A stream of kbots  
and vehicles cascaded down the hill like a metallic waterfall.   
"Sir," Max grabbed the commander's attention, "the shells are starting to come in." Sure  
enough, half a dozen small yellow markers had appeared on the radar, and were closing in  
fast on the white markers that represented the Arm units. Moments later, the shells  
struck the earth around the Arm force. Billows of smoke and dust erupted from the  
ground with each impact, accompanied by an deafening shock wave that caused the  
gargantuan bulldog to shudder. The convoy was still at the outer reaches of the  
punishers' reliable range however, which offered the Arm some safety. The whole convoy  
was now moving away from the foot of the pile. Reese began to issue orders.  
"Infantry squads, move to the front. I want a flat formation. All rocket carrying units, fall  
in behind them, and support in behind them. We're going to enter the Core base area and  
head straight for critical units. Go straight for nuclear power plants, moho mines, level 2  
unit facilities and construction units. Ignore all level one facilities and defence systems,  
and minimise the time spent engaging the enemy forces where possible. Our job is to last  
long enough to put a dent in their productivity, nothing else." Reese closed the channel,  
and pushed himself slowly back into his chair. More shells were on their way, this time  
with greater accuracy. Reese was transfixed by the yellow harbingers on the radar  
display as they traced a path across the virtual battle field. Eight shells landed  
simultaneously in the face of the Arm convoy sending up a wave of debris that sprayed  
straight up into the infantry squads. One Peewee was struck face on by a boulder that  
was dislodged in an explosion only a couple of metres in front of it. The unit disintegrated  
immediately under the force of the impact. Its flaming remains were hurled back across  
the Arm lines, ricocheting off the hulls of the units behind. One particularly large chunk  
off metal smashed straight into the rocket launcher of Samson that had been moving up  
behind the ill fated unit. All the rockets were detonated in the collision. The vehicle was  
devoured by angry red flames, and then exploded in burst of shrapnel. The Arm force was  
now emerging from the haze of dust and smoke. As visibility returned, Reese could see  
the infantry units darting in between the Core structures. Soon, he to would reach the  
perimeter of the Core base. Ahead, a squad of flashes were passing between two solar  
collectors, followed closely by Max's Rockos. They turned left, and disappeared behind  
one of the facilities. Moments later, Reese's Bulldog followed them in.  
The squad of flashes weaved slowly between the towering structures followed by Max's  
Rockos, and by Reese's Bulldog. The small convoy had entered a region cloaked by radar  
jammers. The visual feed was the only evidence they had of each other's presence, let  
alone that of the Core. Mining facilities and power plants reared up on either side of the  
train of vehicles. Each one hummed quietly as they went about there functions, as if to  
deliberately show their indifference to the situation that was unfolding around them.  
Reese had ordered communication silence, and was receiving no word of the progress of  
the rest of his forces. He knew that they were still fighting. The sound of weapon fire  
carried on the wind across the Core base, occasionally interrupted by a muffled explosion  
signifying the end of the battle for another warrior. Reese's squads had yet to meet with  
resistance, but the commander knew that this would only be temporary. A shrill whistle  
emerged from the ambient sounds of combat, the unmistakable signature of a punisher  
shell. Without radar there was no way to know where the shell was going to strike. Reese  
braced for a possible impact, wincing as the sound grew louder and louder. A terrible roar  
heralded the impact. The Bulldog groaned as it was struck by the shockwave.  
"That was close." Foy said. Reese did not reply. He looked to the right through the  
sensors to see a mushroom like cloud of pitch-black smoke and intense yellow flame rise  
from behind a metal storage unit. A direct hit. Seconds later metallic precipiation rattled  
against the hull. Reese's attention was held by the dissipating cloud as it's fading form  
curled upwards into the atmosphere. The uneasy calm was shattered abruptly, as a  
green bolt of energy raced from between two metal extractors, piercing the armour of  
one of the flashes. The tank was sent reeling over to it's left before being struck again in  
its underside. The unit ignited in a haze of burning fuel and tumbled like a flaming cathrine  
wheel into an adjacent solar collector. The remaining three flashes swivelled on the spot,  
kicking up dirt and grass and let rip with a fierce volley of canon fire.   
"Take us through Major!" Reese ordered, shouting over the cacophony.  
"Yes sir!" Foy replied. The Rockos were now running at top speed past the melee. As they  
moved in behind the ailing Flashes, the torso of each of the kbots turned to face the  
laser tower. The trio unleashed a mighty salvo of rockets. The projectiles screamed from  
their launchers and in a split second were upon their target, tearing it apart before the  
Rockos had even recovered from the recoil. A plume of fire lashed outwards from the  
defeated tower, charring slightly the hull of one of the rocket kbots. The Rockos marched  
on triumphantly. A few seconds later, the Bulldog reached the site of the skirmish. Reese  
watched silently as the Bulldog passed the remains of a flash embedded in the plating of  
a solar collector, still burning uncontrollably. Glancing to the left he saw the laser tower.  
Scorched, battered and crooked, it hung it's head mournfully over the blackened remains  
of two more Flash tanks. The last of the flashes was heavily damaged. Its tracks and  
turret twitched randomly, it appeared that the nervous system of the clone inside had  
been fried by the laser flash. Reese looked away. There was no time to put it out of its  
misery.  
  
Reese checked the time. It had been twenty minutes, and still the command squad had  
yet to find a vital structure. They had easily dispatched several squads of infantry. In  
the confined conditions the A.Ks had been unable to take advantage of their superior  
numbers. But those victories were of little consequence, and had were no more than a  
waste of time. The commander now feared for the success of the mission. The  
background gunfire that had accompanied the group on their journey through the Core  
base was dying off. From what Reese could tell there were only a few Arm units left, and  
still there was no evidence of vital Core structures.  
"Where are they hiding them?" Reese muttered in frustration. He threw his head back  
against the headrest of his chair and sighed. What do we do now? He thought to himself.  
Just then, he detected a disturbance through the audio sensors.  
"Foy?" Reese said, sitting forward.  
"I hear it sir." Foy replied, "Engine signatures. Definitely Core." Reese assumed that Max  
and his squad had detected the noise as well. Sure enough the Rockos stopped dead in  
their tracks, lying in wait for the approaching enemy. Two weasels pounced from behind  
an energy storage unit thirty meters ahead of the Rockos. They skidded simultaneously  
to face the Arm, and with a shrill buzz accelerated towards the waiting kbots. The rears  
of the vehicles swung wildly from side to side as they swerved to avoid the barrage of  
missiles unleashed by the Rockos. One was hit squarely by a projectile and burst in a halo  
of flame and wreckage. The second turned sharply to a void the destruction of its  
compatriot, but lost traction on the moist, grassy surface. It span out of control,  
narrowly missing the left leg of Max's Rocko. Intead, it careered into the Bulldog. The  
armour of the tank shrieked and groaned as the smaller unit exploded in its face. Reese  
was nearly deafened and blinded as the sensors were momentarily overloaded by the  
proximity of the blast. He and Foy were thrown against there safety harnesses, which  
quickly catapulted them back into there chairs.   
"Are you all right commander?" Foy asked.  
"Yes." Reese said. "What's the damage?"  
"There's heavy damage to the right track, and we've lost radar." Foy replied, juggling the  
tasks of speaking and trying to compensate for damaged systems via the neural  
interface.  
"Can we move?" Reese asked.  
"Not unless you were planning to go round in circles sir." Foy said facetiously, before  
even considering who he was addressing. His humour could not have been more poorly  
timed as four slashers emerged form behind the same facility as the weasels had. They  
were moving in a square formation to fit between the tightly packed structures. Reese  
opened a channel,  
"Rockos, take out the first two slashers. Clog the path with wreckage."  
"What about comm silence sir?" Max replied.  
"Frag the damn silence!" Reese snapped, "I want smoking wreckage, and I want it now!"  
Reese's patience had gone up in smoke with the Weasels. Fate had played every trick it  
knew to keep Reese from his goals that day, and now he was loosing composure. "That  
goes for you too Major!" Reese said, addressing Foy. The Slashers came to a stop ten  
metres from the stationary Rockos. For a short time, the rival vehicles stood motionless in  
a tense face off. Billows of smoke filled the air as the Rockos and Slashers unleashed  
their charges upon one another. The atmosphere was permeated by the blast of the  
rockets as they drew out vapour trails across the battlefield. The two swarms of  
projectiles passed each other by and ploughed mercilessly into their targets. The two  
outer Rockos were each hit in the chest by a single missile. Both slid back a few feet on  
the damp ground under the force of the explosions, but their armour held. The central  
Rocko sustained direct hits from two missiles. Much of its chest plating liquefied in the  
intense heat as the recoil threw it away from the battle lines. Max's Rocko glided silently  
through the air, trailing smoke and flames. Finally, it landed on its feet. It slid back a few  
feet and stood motionless when it came to rest. Then it toppled forward. The Core had  
also sustained damage. The two front Slashers ablaze, but still refused to yield to their  
injuries. Both sides launched fresh volleys of rockets. This time, the results were far more  
devastating. Both of the remaining Rockos eviscerated by violent explosions, as were the  
two already burning slashers. Fragments of molten alloy spiralled up to the heavens as  
the battle field was consumed by the fiery cataclysms. The Bulldog was totally  
incapacitated, and had no way to escape being devoured by the monstrous blaze.   
From inside the bulldog, it sounded as if there was a thunderstorm raging outside. The  
blast of air caused by the explosions howled around the vehicle, and mighty clangs rang  
out in the cockpit like the peal of a giant bell as hunks of shrapnel struck the outer hull.  
The heat was becoming unbearable as the tank was roasted in the inferno. Reese pulled  
the neural interface helmet from his head allowing a stream of sweat to pour from hid  
forehead down his face. He winced and shook the perspiration from his hair.  
"Foy!" Reese gasped, "Do something about this temperature before the machine  
overheats!" There was no response. "Foy?!" Reese shouted over the wailing of the  
fire-storm outside. Still there was no reply. The commander leaned forward and jabbed  
the Major in the arm. Foy did not flinch. The muscles in his arm were seized up. Reese  
dropped back into his seat as he realised that Foy was dead. An over load in the neural  
interface had scrambled his nervous system. It was only now that Reese noticed that the  
insulation on a number of the wires that lead to Foy's helmet had melted, a result of the  
heat caused by the flood of meaningless digital information that had crashed Foy's mind.  
Reese sighed. The only thing he could do now was to wait for the flames to subside.  
  
A loud scraping resonated within the cockpit of the Bulldog as Reese twisted the release  
on the access hatch above his head. The handle was still warm, but apart from the  
groaning of the hatch mechanism all was silent. Reese assumed from the calm that the  
hell fires that had raged around the exterior of the tank had subsided. The release locked  
up, and Reese pushed upwards against the hatch. As the seal on the hatch was broken,  
billows of grey smoked tumbled down into the cockpit. Reese paused for a second to  
cough, and then proceeded to open the hatch. The door tipped over, striking the hull  
with a dull clunk, and the commander thrust his head upwards into the comparatively cool  
air of the outside world. Reese squinted at first, expecting his eyes to be ill adjusted to  
the light levels, but his eyes slowly widened as he realised it was quite dark outside as  
well. Standing on his chair, he turned gradually through 360 degrees to get a panoramic  
view of the scene. All around, damaged structures belched fire balls from mouth like  
fissures in their armour. Towering spires of smoke reached up to the heavens, blocking  
the warm rays of the sun, which now only appeared as an ethereal orange disc behind a  
veil of acrid smog. A number of VToL aircraft were also visible, scavanging the remains of  
deceased units like wasps upon a discarded piece of fruit. It seemed that the battle was  
over. He reached down into the cockpit and grabbed the neural interface helmet and  
disconnected it from the vehicle with a firm tug. All it was useful for now was remote  
communication. Reese placed his hand on the hull of the tank in order to haul himself up  
to a better vantagepoint, but pulled it away with an anguished yelp. The armour of the  
bulldog was still very hot. Reese placed the helmet on his head, pulled his hands back  
into the sleeves of his overalls, and then hoisted himself up through the access hatch.  
The plastic sole of his right boot hissed as he placed it on the smouldering plate. He then  
stood up to his full height, and groaned as stretched his weary muscles. The view from  
here was just as grim. Though the devestation appeared widespread, from what Reese  
could tell there was only damage to non-critical structures. It was nothing the Core could  
not deal with quickly. Now the dark possibility that the mission had failed was dawning on  
the dejected commander. Reese scoured all communications channels. All he could find  
were a few rudimentary commands being passed back and forth between core  
construction units, and a small number of encrypted transmissions that only the higher  
Core units would be able to decipher. Ironically, it appeared that he was the only one left  
alive. Demoralised and defeated, Reese toppled back into a sitting position on the roof of  
the Bulldog. As his head dropped into his hands, a small indicator sounded in his mind. A  
weak transmission was being received. Reese raised his head,  
"Hello?" he said timidly, "Who's there?" The transmission was still weak, and without  
sensors to back up the receiver there was no way to tell where it was coming from.  
Suddenly, a voice emerged from the static.  
"Hello? Comm..." The voice was swallowed once more by the writhing sea of interference.  
Reese hurriedly compensated.  
"Hello." Reese said with purpose, "Identify yourself." A short, static filled pause followed.  
"Commander?" the voice surfaced once more. "You're alive." The tone was frail and raspy,  
but Reese recognised it straight away.  
"Max." Reese murmured to himself. He turned and scrambled to the leading edge of the  
bulldog. Before him lay Max's stricken Rocko. It lay face down in the churned up earth, its  
scorched body bleeding red coolant from gaping wounds in its hull.  
"Max!" Reese said as a smile began to spread across his ruddy face. "Hold on Max. I'll get  
you out." Reese threw one leg over the side of the tank preparing to disembark, only to  
be halted by the Corporal's reply.  
"No, commander."  
"Corporal?" Reese replied, bemused by Max's unwillingness to co-operate.   
"Sir, I'm too badly injured." Max explained, "An overload in the neural interface as  
paralysed me totally. Besides, even if you could get me out, where would we go? We're  
stranded in the middle of Core territory with no weapons and limited communication. I  
don't think we're going anywhere sir." Reese knew Max was right. He sat down, his legs  
dangling over the edge of the tank, and pondered his situation. It seemed that fate had  
dealt him one final irony in leaving him alive whilst almost all of the rest of his forces had  
been destroyed. As he glared into the baked earth, Reese began to overflow with  
emotion. He was frustrated that after all the hardship of the days before his mission had  
amounted to nothing, and that was being forced to watch as the life of his adoptive son  
ebbed slowly away. He was angry at a world that would allow him and his soldiers to  
endure such misery. Reese just wanted to throw his arms above his head and cry out to  
the heavens for answers from a greater power. But this simply fuelled his frustration, as  
he knew there could never be a response for a soulless clone such as himself. But more  
than anything, he was scared. Scared, as he stared into the dark cowl of death. Scared  
of what may lie on the other side. Scared that he would meet his end one last time  
without purpose. As Reese turned his stare upwards to the darkening skies, a single tear  
rolled down his grimy cheek. He closed his eyes hard, and opened them to clear the saline  
that was impairing his vision. A small group of VtoLs feeding on metallic carrion no more  
than three hundred metres away caught the commander's attention. They circled their  
meal slowly as the stream of nanites digested the recyclable material. Suddenly, the  
beams dried up. This is it, Reese thought. He was certain that the Core had detected his  
communications of a few moments earlier, and were now coming to reclaim the Arm  
vehicles, along with himself and Corporal Max. He swallowed hard as the construction  
craft rose ominously into the air. They stopped at about twenty metres and hung almost  
motionless above the smoking battlefield. Then, something unexpected happened. The  
VtoLs turned their backs on Reese and the Bulldog. The commander looked on in  
bewilderment as the rear thrusters of the construction crafts went from a dull orange to  
brilliant white, carrying them slowly away from him, and from the remaining wreckage.  
Reese hauled himself to his feet and dragged his forearm across his face, removing the  
dew from his eyes. He took in a panoramic view of the scene once more. Sure enough, all  
around him VToLs were leaving their assigned tasks uncompleted, and were slowly ebbing  
away from the killing fields that they had been feeding from so vigorously only moments  
before.  
"What the hell?" Reese muttered to himself. Reese's sentiment had reached further than  
his own ears however, as the comm link to Max had been left open.  
"Sir?" Max said, sounding weaker than before, "What's going on?"  
"They're all leaving." Reese said, not thinking to explain in more detail.  
"Who, sir? What is ...." A sharp whistle cut out Max's voice over the comm link. Reese  
frowned with discomfort, and reached for the side of the neural interface helmet to  
compensate for the interference.   
"What was that?" Max enquired as the link was re-established.  
"I don't kn..." Reese stopped himself. He did know. The commander turned to face the in  
the direction from which the convoy had arrived, and began to pace slowly across the  
roof of the tank. The thumping of his boots on the hull increased in tempo, as did his  
heart beat as he approached the side of the vehicle. There he stopped, and squinted,  
struggling to see through the thick fumes. On a patch of pure blue sky only barely visible  
between two mighty pillars of smoke, Reese caught a glimpse of what he had hoped with  
all his heart to see. I pin prick of white light, growing larger as it traversed the firmament.  
Reese's jaw dropped. Then the surprised expression evolved into a broad smile.  
"They did it." He said, "The S.O.Bs did it!" He reiterated, this time almost laughing.  
"What? Who did what?" Max asked, desperate to know what was occurring beyond his  
alloy sarcophagus.   
"A nuke." Reese said, sounding as if he barely believed his own words. But it was true.  
While the Core had channelled resources into fending of the Arm's suicide assault, the  
distraction had given the Arm HQ the valuable time they needed to not only set up  
adequate defences, but to build a long-range offence system. And now they were  
harvesting the fruits of their sacrifice. The missile was now above the limits of the Core  
territory. It thrust through towers of smoke, tearing them asunder like a scythe through  
stalks of wheat. Reese looked on in wonderment as the projectile drew nearer. Now the  
rumbling was becoming audible as it cruised in.   
"It's getting close." Max said, now also able to here the roar of the rocket engine,  
"Sounds as if it may land nearby." He paused, "I'm kinda sorry they won't be able to  
retrieve my recall chip. This is one mission I would've liked to remember in my next  
incarnation." Reese felt no such regret. He now knew why he had survived so long. He  
had lived to see the success of the mission, and that his sacrifice had not been in vain.  
As he watched the missile tilt downwards and begin its plunge, he felt no fear or  
apprehension. What he saw was not a weapon of mass destruction, but an angel  
descending on wings of fire, the chorus of its engines calling his name. After two  
thousand years of distinguished service to the Arm, Commander Zeek Reese was about to  
receive the highest honour imaginable... peace. In a distant corner of Reese's mind, he  
heard Max's voice.  
"See you at the cloning facility, sir."  
"No Corporal," Reese replied serenely, "You won't."  
The missile struck...  
  



End file.
